


Summer Blizzards and Winter Roses

by clutzycricket



Series: Practical Magic and Impractical Souls [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Sister-Sister Relationship, Snow Queen Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:49:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutzycricket/pseuds/clutzycricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is starting to feel as if she is in a cage. </p><p>Arya decides its time to change that. And since Sansa nearly hurting Arya was the reason for all those restrictions... well, it can't be the worst idea. Can it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Blizzards and Winter Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Notes- this is loosely inspired by Frozen. Ish. Okay, mostly the Grisha AU I may one day actually write, which is what this originally going to be, and Seanan McGuire's Snow Queen Dreams. (Which is where the story title is from.)
> 
> Also, the Philadelphia Flower Show is a real thing, and huge.

 

Winterfell was lovely, a marvelous construction of engineering nestled in a hidden corner of Montana.

To Sansa, however, it felt more like a prison. Which wasn’t…

Well, as even Arya admitted, for Sansa, it was. And since Arya had been the one Sansa had almost hurt, then shouldn’t Sansa be considered mature enough to be allowed to leave Winterfell and see the world?

She had been a brat to Arya- her younger sister had done something to upset her, and Sansa had went to hit Arya, only...

But that had been years ago, and her parents had rearranged everything to keep Sansa safe. Or keep people safe from Sansa. It wasn’t fair to Robb, who had nearly lost Jeyne when Mom and Dad got so twitchy about him springing a stranger into the sanctuary. Or her youngest siblings, who had been so carefully watched for hints of what made Sansa so… dangerous.

She was a danger, which wasn’t fair. All she wanted was a chance to see the world, to be the one taking photographs of the world and the bits of unlikely beauty that you could find if you were clever and a little bit daring.

Daring wasn’t a word that applied to Sansa. Sweet, obedient, a little bit vain- well, she knew what she looked like, and if she was going to be called a prude and stuck-up for not being allowed to date, she was going to own it.

Which was why she was surprised when Arya came into her room, the day after Sansa turned twenty one. “So, you remember Jon?”

“No, Arya, I can remember the names of every country currently in existence but I cannot remember the cousin who lived with us for years,” Sansa said dryly, dodging the pillow Arya threw. “Careful of the sparkles, horseface. How is he?”

“He’s in New York right now for Scrap’s wedding, but he and some of his friends are living in Philadelphia right now,” Arya said, looking a bit mischievous. “See, the thing is, his friends? All leaving the city for a month for reasons that make no sense.”

“Is Gendry one of these friends?” Sansa asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that Bran always said was like Mom.

“Maaaaybe,” Arya wiggled her hands. “What, he looks good half-naked.”

“Mmm, think I can use him to recreate those Crucible photos?” Sansa teased. “You can apply the grime.”

Arya snorted. “Anyway, they have a really, really good engineering program at this place near there, and I want to check it out while I still have time. Which Dad agreed to, since Jon will be home.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, feeling small and petty for feeling jealous of Arya. She hadn’t…

“Don't be stupid Sansa, I'm not gloating. See, Mom has to take Bran to the hospital, and Dad has a case in the capitol that day, so I’m leaving my car at the airport,” Arya smiled. “They won’t be home til the next night. So… I might have gotten Uncle Blackfish and Jon’s sister to help fund a plane ticket for you.”

Sansa blinked. “But, but..” Her head was spinning. “What will I wear?”

Arya laughed.

~

Sansa managed to pack, with a suitcase Arya got from one of her friends- probably Shireen, since Shireen adored Arya and Jon both. Her camera and equipment was carefully packed in the carrying case as carry-on, and she pulled her red hair into a ponytail and nearly skipped down the stairs.

“Rickon!” Sansa hissed, stopping and having her mind run through with horrifying images of her brother being left alone for the weekend. Frost was starting to form under her hands, and she took them hurriedly off the railings.

“With Mom,” Arya waved it off. “Mom’s still pissed about the spaghetti monster incident.”

Sansa gave her a look. It was easy for Arya to be flippant about it- she hadn’t been covered in exploding spaghetti.

Arya turned up the music because Sansa was so jittery, watching the world outside her window. She wasn’t entirely sure if the late-winter weather was the cause for the delicate frost lining the windows still.

The airport, though, was hell. Under her heavy hooded coat, Sansa was wearing a dress with long bell sleeves and printed tights, hoping it would help, and she’d left her music playing in her ears to isolate her from the world outside.

I can do this, she told herself. I can be brave, I can prove that I can exist outside of Winterfell, without hurting anyone.

She needed to, so desperately it felt like frostbite.

~

She was as careful as she could be, remembering every single focusing exercise she knew and still she let herself get separated from Arya getting off the plane.

She looked around, breath starting to come in white mist like an ice dragon out of Uncle Ben’s stories, and she bit her lip and clutched her camera bag.

“Not in front of the nonmagicals,” came a warm, reassuring voice from behind her. “As stressful as the airport is, its not worth the panicking crowds. Getting mobbed by people trying to flee with sixty pounds of luggage isn’t fun.”

“What?” Sansa spun, hands curling into fists to keep the ice down, focusing on images of Hawaii. The stranger was a man about a decade older than her, with curly brown hair and the oddest golden-brown eyes.

“Will Tyrell- I have a talent for growing things, like you have a talent for… ice magic, is it?” he tilted his head, looking oddly like that gif of a bird of prey that floated around tumblr. “It’s why I’m here, actually, for the flower show.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, backing up a bit. He held his free hand up, looking at if something unpleasant had clicked into place.

“Oh, Jesus, no one ever… did you think you were the only one with powers?” At Sansa’s glare- really, did he know how rude he sounded?- he backpeddled. “That came out wrong. Most importantly, you don’t have a teacher?”

“In…” she couldn’t say the word. “No.”

Something like awe was in his face. “And you are managing remarkably well, considering the airport thing.”

“I’m… just not used to… people, really,” Sansa admitted. “Just my family.” She frowned, looking at the crowd. “Actually, my family taught me a lot about patience.”

Will muttered something that sounded like “oh, I know that feeling”, and Sansa had to suppress a giggle. “See, we got you smiling. Let’s get you out of here, and I’d like to know a bit more about how no one has discovered you, Miss…” He raised his eyebrows.

“Sansa Stark,” she said, deciding to be daring, just this once.

Of course, that’s when Arya came running over, looking murderously at Will.

~

Jon’s house was probably a former frat house, given the location and the fact that Jon had been able to buy it- well, he did split his inheritance with his older sister, after their dad and brother died in a car crash years ago, and Aunt Lyanna was not-dating Jaime Lannister, so maybe cost wasn’t an issue.

But someone- possibly Aunt Lya- had left a list of things they might want to do. Arya was going to take that ghost tour of Laurel Hill Cemetery, and there was two photography tours Sansa could take. One of which was at the Flower Show, and there was a pass with Sansa’s name on it.

She might have squeed. A little bit.

“You just want to meet that guy again,” Arya shook her head.

“He knows about… that stuff, and he might know someone who can help me,” Sansa pointed out. “This might be my only chance, Arya.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Arya said doubtfully.

So did Sansa. Which meant she was being careful- she Googled him, too. Highgarden Horticulturists were world-renowned, being an old family company. They’d done the Philadelphia Flower Show ever since it started, and won prizes quite often. Will Tyrell was a bit older than ten years older than her, the eldest of four, and single.

(Not, she told herself, that that was important. He was just one of the first truly nice people to speak to her in years, to see what she could do and not be afraid.

Though he did have pretty eyes. And was actually taller than her.)

There was nothing about magic, though she didn’t really expect it.

So she got out her camera the next morning, put on her walking boots, and went off to find this magical plant grower.

It still sounded ridiculous, and she had ice grow around her when she got upset.

 


End file.
